Acquisition (4 page)

Eleven months later

Luka stepped off the elevator, looking forward to reaching his suite, where he could toss back a drink and forget about the delicate negotiations he had undertaken with this city’s branch of the
Cosa Nostra
. The last thing he wanted to do was think about that business, especially after having spent the day with Gio Peretti talking terms and discussing mutual business endeavors that would increase both their profits by working together.

It was a sound plan, with the major drawback of how Gio wanted to seal the agreement between them. The last thing he wanted was a wife, especially one selected for him by Peretti. The other man hadn’t taken it well when he’d resisted. Gio had offered his most beautiful sister, but it didn’t matter if she was young or old, curvy or skinny, or sweet or sour. He had no interest in a Peretti wife, because he didn’t want any wife.

A pang shot through him as he acknowledged that wasn’t entirely true. A year ago, there was a woman who he’d been strongly considering for the job, but that was before Abby had dropped off the face of the Earth. He’d spent weeks worrying about her, convinced she was kidnapped by one of his enemies, or perhaps lying injured or dead somewhere. He’d been certain an outside force had kept her away from him. He’d even entertained the idea that she was trapped in a coma at some unknown hospital.

Those theories had haunted him until one of his men found the Cartier watch at the building where they did the business that couldn’t be done at the club. Then he had known. He didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough to realize she had witnessed the exchange with Armstrong, or at least part of it. However much she’d seen had been enough to frighten her, and she had torn the watch from her wrist, flung it in the shadows, and ran out on him.

At that point, the sensible thing to do would have been to call off the search he’d been conducting for her. He’d gone through the motions of doing so, canceling contracts with their usual private investigators and contacts, but letting a few fall through the cracks. He was still no closer to finding her, even with his informally active search being conducted by independent contractors and known associates, but not sanctioned and recommended locators affiliated with the Rinaldi family. They were coming up blank.

He’d started to think he would never find her again, and even he wasn’t sure why he continued looking. She clearly didn’t want to be with him anymore, so the smart thing to do was just cut his losses and move on. He knew she was likely a witness to him executing Armstrong, which made her a liability, but he wasn’t terribly concerned. If she hadn’t gone to the cops in the last year, she probably wasn’t going to.

He could just let her go and move on, which was what this trip was supposed to be about. He was supposed to be moving on and securing a cooperative agreement with the Perettis. He had managed to do that by standing firm against a marriage merger. He couldn’t imagine marrying anyone now, and it amazed him he had once entertained the idea of proposing to Abby Collins.

Thinking of her brought her face to mind, which was why he was certain he was imagining things when he looked up as a maid drew closer, pushing her cart in his direction, and she had Abby’s face. He froze, biting back the urge to run over to the startled cleaner and make sure it was the woman who had left him. Or more likely,
not
the woman who had left him. What were the odds of finding her like this, especially after looking for so long?

As she got closer, he realized he couldn’t allow himself to be seen if it really was her. That was sure to spook Abby and send her running again, and he didn’t want that. He knew he had to reacquire her, even if he didn’t know why the acquisition of Abby was so important. He hadn’t yet figured out what he was going to do with her, and he was certain she would simply complicate matters and make life more difficult.

He couldn’t wait to have her back again.

He stepped inside his room and closed the door almost completely, but left a small crack he could see through. As the maid came nearer, it was as though she was complying with his need to determine her identity, because she paused briefly outside the door to reach into the cart for something before she moved the cart again. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that it was Abby that had been standing in front of his door for less than a second. He didn’t know why she was in this hotel, or what had brought them both here at the same time, but he was ready to find out.

She had run from him once, but she wouldn’t have the chance again.

***

As Abby shed her maid uniform and dressed as quickly as possible in jogging pants and a T-shirt, she cursed the wannabe rock star in suite two-fourteen. He must have gone on a bender to leave so much damage in his wake. She and three other maids had been assigned to clean up the damage on top of her usual rooms, leaving her running late—and she didn’t have the luxury of being late. That was a trait she’d had to sharply curb in the past year.

Finally, she was out the employee entrance of the hotel and rushing down the street to the employee parking lot. Each time she made the trek, it seemed longer than last time, and while she understood why the hotel would make its employees park two blocks away to save space for their guests, she wasn’t any happier with the situation than she was any other day.

Her scalp prickled, and she had the uneasy feeling she was being watched. This was the second day in a row she’d felt like that, and she glanced over her shoulders in both directions, though she saw nothing. Yesterday, she had simply dismissed it as paranoia, but now she was uncertain and not as ready to dismiss her intuition.

With that in mind, she grasped her key ring more firmly, finger on the pepper spray, as she approached the Datsun that was probably older than she was. Did they even make Datsuns anymore? She shrugged away the stupid question as she approached her car.

Even as she slid the key into the lock, she still was on guard. It was almost anticlimactic when strong arms wrapped around her, and a hand went around her mouth, clamping it shut. She should have been terrified, and part of her was, but the feminine part of her recognized the scent of her attacker even before he spoke. She couldn’t resist the impulse to inhale deeply and savor his unique aroma.

“Hello, Abby,” said Luka, sounding perfectly pleasant and not at all put out.

Oddly enough, it was his tone of voice that spurred her to fight, and she began to struggle in his arms. Though it did little good, she still kicked and squirmed as he dragged her away from her Datsun and shoved her into an SUV. She hadn’t paid any attention to the nondescript vehicle, whereas if he had been in a limousine, she certainly would have noticed that.

Before she could try to scramble out, he’d already slid in and closed the door behind himself. She slid across the seat and tried that door, but she knew it wouldn’t open even as she tried to pull on it. “Let me out.”

“Sure,” said Luka, sounding almost affable. “As soon as we’re back home, I’ll let you out of here, and then you can tell me exactly what the fuck is going on.”

His easygoing tone had started to slip, and she shivered as she looked into his eyes, overwhelmed by the amount of rage she saw there. The warm whiskey-brown color was more of a clouded color now, clearly revealing his rage despite his manner. She was terrified suddenly, the delayed instinct finally kicking in as she realized she wasn’t safe with the man she had once loved with all her heart.

Still loved, if truth be told, but she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d been fighting against that feeling for the last eleven months, ever since learning who and what he really was. “What are you going to do to me?”

He shrugged, not bothering to answer. His gaze never left hers even as he spoke to the driver of the dark SUV, saying, “Get on the freeway. It’s a long drive home, but I’m not risking taking her on an airplane. The airport is too crowded, even if we chartered a plane.”

Her heart stuttered, and she shook her head. “No, we can’t leave the city.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re in no position to dictate what we can or can’t do, Abby.”

Truth crashed in on her, and she realized she was going to have to tell him everything and expose the most precious person in her life to the dangerous reality of what his father was. “Please, I have to be there at the center in the next fifteen minutes. If I’m not, Lorraine will keep him for another fifteen minutes, and then she’ll call the police. I can’t let her call the police. If they take him into foster care, I’ll never get him back.” Not since she was living under a false name and working illegally while driving a car without a legal license.

He frowned at her. “What are you rambling on about?”

She clutched her fingers together and took a deep breath. “I need to get my son from daycare. Please, Luka. I have to get him right now.”

He stiffened, and his normally tanned complexion paled slightly for a moment as his eyes narrowed. “Won’t the father pick him up?”

Abby shook her head. “Please, I have to get him.”

Still looking stiff and angry, his lips barely moved when he asked, “What’s the address?”

She gave it to the driver, and the other dark-suited goon in the passenger seat inputted it into the GPS system before silence dominated the vehicle. She shifted moderately in her seat, wondering if she should say something.

Did he really believe she had immediately gone from him to someone else and gotten pregnant? Or was he in denial, or perhaps simply preparing himself for the worst outcome? She bit her lip as she pondered the decisions before her, slanting a glance at him from the corner of her eye to find him staring at her with a brooding expression.

“How old is your son?”

“Three months.” She licked her lips as nervousness assailed her. Surely, he had realized the truth by now.

He looked strangely calm, except for the maelstrom of emotion visible in his darkened eyes. “Hurry up,” he snapped to the driver, but didn’t look at her again.

She sank against the seat, trying to bolster herself for the possible futures before her. She still didn’t know why Luka had come for her, but she assumed it was because she had witnessed him murdering an FBI agent. The discovery that he had a son might or might not sway whatever course he’d already picked for her.

Even if he decided to kill her, surely he would take care of the baby. She couldn’t imagine the man she had known would be capable of murdering his own flesh and blood, especially in infant form. It didn’t provide much as a measure of comfort to think about her son being raised by the mafia man beside her without Abby in the picture, but at least she could be fairly confident her baby would be safe.

Seven minutes later, they stopped outside the Timmy Frog Daycare Center, and she tried opening her door again before remembering she was locked in. “You have to let me out so I can go get him.”

Luka grabbed her wrist in a hard hold and dragged her across the seat toward him as he opened his own door and stepped out. He pulled her out with him, a little less carefully than he would have in the past. He was still vibrating with rage. “We’ll go together, Abby. Like a big, happy family.” His bitterness was almost as chilling as the glare he directed her way. “That means no bullshit, and no trying to get their attention or engage other people in our mess. Right?”

She nodded, too afraid to argue with him, and never having entertained the idea of trying to reveal who or what he was to the daycare staff. There would be other children still in the facility, and there was no way she was going to put them at risk. It was bad enough she was putting her own child at risk, but she couldn’t have just driven away as Luka’s captive and turned her back on her baby. Maybe he would have been better off abandoned by his mother rather than being raised in the mafia, but she couldn’t be that selfless.

She walked beside Luka with what she hoped was an air of calm, struggling to match the rapid pace he set, his hand still clamped tightly around her wrist. The skin where he held her burned a little, and her fingers were starting to go numb, but she didn’t try to get him to loosen his hold. She assumed it would have been a futile exercise anyway.

They climbed the steps to the clapboard house converted to a daycare center and stepped inside. It was a homey and cheerful place, and it had always given her a good vibe from the time she had interviewed the people about taking care of her son. She had been almost eight months pregnant at the time and restricted by a tight budget, so it had been a blessing to find Timmy Frog, where the staff seemed to genuinely care about the children in their care.

The director herself greeted them, coming from the playroom rather than her office. In the three months Abby had brought her son there, she didn’t recall ever seeing Lorraine in the office. The director/owner was hands-on with the kids, just like the other workers.

Now, the middle-aged woman flashed her a big smile, then her eyes darted curiously to Luka. “There you are. I was getting a little concerned.”

She strove for a normal tone. “Some rocker-type wrecked a suite last night, so I was one of the lucky ones who got stuck staying late to clean it.” And the hotel took advantage of the fact that she was an illegal worker by not paying extra or overtime for such deeds. She was often picked for that kind of work, along with the other women she suspected were working without legal identification.